


The Time Between

by ForLove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForLove/pseuds/ForLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t like the time between hunts. He never has, but since getting saddled with the mark it’s gotten worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time Between

**Author's Note:**

> This is set directly after The Hunter Games.

Dean doesn’t like the time between hunts. He never has, but since getting saddled with the mark it’s gotten worse. There’s a constant anxiousness, and at times he thinks about locking himself in the dungeon to keep others safe. Since Cas left all Dean can hear is Metatron’s words ringing in his ears. Dean stomach goes cold thinking that he’s _going to get worse._ It doesn’t seem possible, but of course something getting better hasn’t really been in his history. Dean tries to focus on what Sam said; Cain has lived with the mark. Now it’s Dean’s turn to find out how he can keep himself from becoming that _thing_ again.

Dean thinks back to meeting Cain. He talked about food and enjoyed cooking, it’s not much but Dean takes it as a direction. While Sam lounges in the library with a book, Dean teaches himself to make bear claws. Everyone makes doughnuts, but man, fresh bear claws- now that’s a treat. He takes Sam a warm pastry and tries to look at a book for awhile. Sam’s gentle tapping on the laptop is too distracting so once Dean licks the sweetness off his fingers, he goes to his room and re-organizes his magazines (shut up they’re antique). But, cleaning his room isn’t nearly as satisfying as it used to be. _Maybe that’s because cleanliness is next to godliness_ , Dean ruefully laughs to himself. In between his self-imposed tasks, Dean hopes Castiel will come back to the bunker for help. Maybe not even for help. A visit would be nice.

Since using Cain for a role model hasn’t really seemed to help, Dean lays on his bed listening to music. He closes his eyes and the world around him disappears into rhythms that for years have soothed him. But there’s still a longing. Something nagging at Dean that he can’t quite figure out. He sits up and looks around at his room of things. It feels empty. A tiny idea starts to form. New task. A longer project. He smiles while hopping off the bed and crosses into the room across from his. It’s bare. Sam chose a room further down the hall, and although he hasn’t really made it his own like Dean has, this room across from Dean’s is completely empty.

First thing Dean does is sweep the floor and dust a built in shelf, might as well before he moves in some furniture and makes it difficult to get into the corners. Once that’s done, he rummages around the bunker for paint. There’s a can somewhere, it’s leftover from when Dean spruced up his own room. While spackling over some cracks and holes, Dean lets himself feel happy for a moment. He’s going to make this room a nice one.

Sam finds him when the paint is drying. He doesn’t say anything when he see’s Dean cleaning up the brushes, just looks around gives a little nod and a smile. Dean feels his face grow hot when Sam catches him, but smiles back.

The next day in the depths of the bunker, Dean finds a bed frame and night stand. He gets Sam to help drag the frame down the long hallway to the bedroom, but he goes back alone for the night stand and later for a lamp. Sam can’t hide his smile and Dean’s noticed it’s more like a grin. Maybe it’s because he’s employed himself in something other than carving up people, Dean thinks with a good helping of self-loathing.

That ache in Dean’s chest hasn’t gone away. In fact it’s gotten stronger the closer he is to finishing the room. While in a storage room looking for things to decorate with, Dean comes across a framed scientific illustration of bees. He stares at it, remembering Cain in his beekeeping outfit. The memory of the hum of the hive reminds him of another, and his breath catches. Dean hasn’t let himself articulate who this room is for, and if he takes this it’ll be obvious. Though he’s pretty sure Sam has already figured it out.

Dean lays the bee illustration flat and stacks some other trinkets on top to carry back to the room. It’s not much, but it’s a start. He leans the picture of the bees upright on the built in shelf. Next to that he sets a couple interesting rocks he’s found. He doesn’t know the names of them but they’ve got great colors and one he’s pretty sure is called a geode. Dean looks around at the room. The bed is made, all it needs is a resident. He stands for a moment looking, hoping that he’ll hear a rustle behind him. When it doesn’t come his eyes sting. Before anything else can happen, Dean covers his face and takes a breath. A moment later he crosses back into his own room.

Sitting on the floor by his bed, Dean curls onto himself. Of course Castiel won’t come back, or won’t stay. It was Dean who kicked him out in the first place. Of all the bad choices Dean has made, that is one he regrets the most. There must have been something else he could have done. He abandoned Cas. Of course Cas won’t want to stay. _Of course._ Dean’s mind spins out of control, and any advancement in helping Dean handle the mark that putting the room together had brought him is gone in an instant. Anxiety makes his whole body tingle and his breath is shallow. Dean eyes sting again, and his inner dialogue is put on a loop of, _Cas I’m so sorry. Sammy, I can’t do this. Cas I’m so sorry._

Inside Dean’s room there’s a number of weapons and he wonders if any of them will work on him. Dean remembers looking through black eyes and cutting his own hand. If he did the same now, would he heal? If he’s killed now would he become a demon again? He wants to find out, but Dean doesn’t want to risk becoming that monster. He already is one now, no sense in making it worse. After those thoughts, Dean’s mind simply returns to the loop of _Cas I’m so sorry. Sammy, I can’t do this._ In his solitude, Dean lets the tears he’s been holding back fall.

Wings flap next to him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, I-” Dean doesn’t raise his head from his knees. “You don’t have to come here, you don’t have to stay. I get it.”

“Dean, I want to. And I want to see this room you made for me.”

Dean looks up. “Cas I didn’t pray.”

Castiel looks at him warmly with a little annoyance. “Dean you should know by now, you don’t have to formally pray for me to get the message. Shall we see this room?”

Wipes his face self-consciously, “Hell yes,” He stands up realizing the anxiety he’s been feeling has disappeared. As Dean crosses the hallway following after Cas, he feels excitement at showing Castiel his room and a calmness that lets him breathe. Maybe beekeeping helped Cain, Dean thinks, but this is much better.

**Author's Note:**

> The geode was chosen on purpose...something special inside. Yes, it's a metaphor.
> 
> Dean still hasn't thought about Cain and Colette, or is in a bit of denial- but that's starting to chip away.


End file.
